


Soft Hands

by SeraphHT



Category: Call of Duty
Genre: Burns, M/M, Massage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2016-10-14
Packaged: 2018-08-22 08:53:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8280103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeraphHT/pseuds/SeraphHT
Summary: Keegan likes Logan's hands, and the way he uses them.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I've been away for a long looong time, but the worst is over and I won't have another distraction until February/March. We'll see whether my long hiatus pays off when the results come out in December.
> 
> But here I am now! And this was originally supposed to be Ghost/Roach (you know, after Loose Ends...maybe the burn wounds would have fitted), but for some reason I've decided to change it to Keegan/Logan. Let's just say somehow he suffers some moderate burns on his arms and torso , and he and Logan are alone and waiting for help somewhere on a mission.

“Logan, you’ve helped enough.”

“Trust me, applying this thing can hurt like shit,” the other rolled his eyes, placing the tub of cream between them. “And since it’s your first time, I’d prefer for you not to feel the relief after enduring the pain at such a cost.”

“It would be nothing I can’t handle, kid.”

Logan arched a brow, half-exasperated. “Keegan, I’ve had plenty of burns before and enough experience to get you through without causing too much hurt, so come on, give me a chance?”

Their gazes locked, his sharp azure eyes keenly reading the other’s. Logan sighed softly. “Sorry, just don’t like seeing you like this. I don’t want to force you.”

Silence fell between them. The flames of the campfire crackled soothingly, a welcome sound to accompany the relative calmness and comfortable seclusion under the dark starry sky. Logan shifted uneasily under the other’s scrutiny, and moved to get up.

Keegan grabbed his arm, and his look was careful; strangely curious. “You have good intentions, and I’m grateful,” he said softly. “It’s not that I’m not thankful for your concern.”

Slowly, Logan sat back down. “I know. Just thought I might’ve crossed a line on the privacy.”

“No,” Keegan shook his head, as the Walker held out a hand and he gingerly allowed him to clasp his wrist. After all the missions they’ve done together, not only was Logan a valuable ally, but a good friend, holding the trust of Keegan himself. “To be truthful, I… appreciate the offer.”

He watched as Logan unwinded the bandages around his right arm. Gentle, carefully peeling it off with quick efficiency, and the air stung, but there was no added pain from cloth sticking and pulling at his skin. It wasn’t long before his entire arm was bare up to the shoulder, exposing the healing wound.

His gaze returned to the other’s face, observed the expression there.

Determination creased Logan’s eyebrows as he scooped up the paste into his hand, then smeared it over Keegan’s forearm—and he braced himself for the sharp deep pain, exhaling quietly in surprise when he was greeted instead with a soft pressure, tender and cautious as it spread the medication over the surface of his skin. The hurt was at its minimum, just a barely-noticeable ache in the background as the cold cream spread up to his elbow.

“You’ve suffered burns before?” he asked, attempting conversation as Logan lightly pressed a finger against his palm.

“Yeah, flamethrowers, whatever, you name it,” Logan said, almost distractedly. Rubbing circles with his thumb, their eyes met. “But most of them were when I was a kid, and the scars are faded now.”

“I… see,” his breath dithered, and Keegan blinked, wondering if Logan noticed. No, he was too concentrated with leaving no skin uncovered, as proved by how he slid his fingers between the other’s to get to the alcoves. “Careless child, were you?”

“Well, I wouldn’t use the word _careless_ ,” Logan smiled, feeling the bone of Keegan’s wrist, massaging the sensitive surface of his hands. Keegan inhaled, inwardly cursing all the touch receptors that somehow managed to survive despite his injuries. He was slightly relieved when attention left his hand to move on to his bicep. “Energetic, I guess. That aside, though, it taught my hands to develop a knack for this treatment.”

Keegan hummed, noting the warmth radiating from Logan’s hand, drowning out the pain, and a contradicting presence to the cold cream and cold air. It rubbed up his arm to the shoulder. Very warm, and very welcome.

“Learned the hard way, you know,” Logan chuckled, deep and pleasant, then paused abruptly. “…is it alright for me to move on to your torso?” hesitance in his voice, hopefulness laced in between.

And Keegan noticed the other’s hands, medium-sized and strong, with long fingers tapered into a square palm. Thick with callus, nowhere near as smooth as he would normally prefer for a rub-down, but igniting heat all the same, especially when he noticed his knuckles, gloveless, sharp and bruised purple.

Some silence, and Keegan surprised him with, “Be careful around the chest. It hurts more than the arm, sometimes.”

Remembered the power displayed in battle, the sheer force of Logan’s punches when the enemy forced him into melee: the strength melted into gentle soft touches. The thought of such powerful hands so incredibly tender just for him sent goose bumps throughout his body.

“Sounds like a story, your hard lesson,” Keegan prompted, eyeing him, appreciating how the light casted shadows over his face.

“Well, it isn’t good to have zero medical knowledge when you’ve accidentally burned yourself playing with your Dad’s lighter, and both he _and_ Hesh don’t know it,” Logan shrugged, and spared a small quirk of the lips when Keegan gave what sounded like a half-chuckle.

The older man straightened and Logan scooted closer. Removing the bandages from Keegan’s torso was slightly difficult, damn near hugging him as Logan slowly unwrapped it from around the broad frame. Keegan sat quietly, watching the other as Logan leaned forward to reach for the bandage around Keegan’s back, to roll to the front. In those instances Keegan could feel the other’s breaths against his collarbone, hot, damp through his dressings. The wetness pricked, but Lord help him: it sent tingles down his spine.

Then paste slapped on his chest, and Logan kneaded and brushed, over the planes of his pectoral muscles, the divot beneath his diaphragm, the lines of his abdomen, until it disappeared through his skin. As the heat spread further down the front of his torso, the pangs of pain lost their grip, no longer intense and aching, now a tiny and steady twinge.

Not that he paid much attention _that_.

Keeping his breath even was a challenge, not with how Logan’s face was just pure focus, devoid of emotion besides resolve, contrasted by the proficiency of his hands, all the concentration rolled into and expressed as tenderness only a professional could muster. There was that, and how he was touching places nobody else had touched for a long, long time.

“How’s the pain coming along?” Logan murmured, accompanied by a gaze of innocence and sincerity.

Keegan inhaled deeply, took a while to answer. Slightly distracted by the other’s hands going progressively down, down. “Minimal; a feat in itself,” his breath caught again when Logan reached the dips of the V-shape, where it framed his belly button and dragged down, disappeared into the cloth. “…whatever you’re doing, it’s very effective.”

Logan nodded his head a few times, fingers still moving, still coaxing along every slope of Keegan’s skin, leaving him breathless, hoped he wouldn’t ask any more. “Okay, that’s good,” was muttered, and Logan travelled up his sides now. The sharp angle of hips, the cool skin covering the ribs.

Sensations sparked arousal, interested a very specific muscle of his, and it tugged in his pants, impatient, making itself known. Doubling the pain. Keegan hissed, and the other pulled his hands away.

“Sorry, sorry,” Logan gushed.

Amused, felt bad for his guilt. He mustn’t know. It was rather convenient. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I’ll be more careful,” promised, and he moved to sit behind him. Keegan craned his neck to look at him, but the stretching there was unbearable and he gave in, staring at the fire instead. Rather unnerving, not knowing where his hands would be.

Then came the warm palms kneading at his neck, evened the tension there, and he allowed his shoulders to slowly sag as they ventured south. Pressure skidded lightly over the expanse of his back, and he shivered at the masterful touches—could feel Logan hesitate, afraid he had hurt him. Continued, of course, seconds later, and he suddenly felt bare and vulnerable and delighted at the ghosting of fingers on the skin above the waistband of his pants.

The restrained twitch of his muscle proved just how delighted he was.

When Logan pushed his thumbs up the length of his spine, Keegan jumped— hissing in pain at the abrupt movement, then shuddering as he moved into the other’s palms; deliberate, enticing, weaving thoughts of what such grace could do to other parts of his body, and Lord, he should concentrate on how the cream was working. Up to the atlas of his backbone, where he finally let go.

He rolled his shoulders carefully, craned his neck, noting things like how his skin didn’t split so painfully anymore, how the air that so usually pricked had a lessened effect and how the ache in his pants oh-so-hurt.

“How was that?” Logan asked, coming into view as he sat next to the older Ghost by the fire.

Keegan nodded appreciatively (and slightly disappointed that it was over). “The rate of which it works is as fast as it is effective,” he started, touching gingerly at his arm, the dampness of the dissolved cream. “The sharp pain when the bandages first removed now dulled; a small warm burn now.”

“I asked you about the medication already,” Logan waved his feedback off. “I meant my method of applying it. What do you think?”

His eyes stared steadily into the other’s, wondering if this was just a test. “It was…” he paused, searched for the word. “Soothing.”

“That’s all? You looked as though you liked it.”

A tad of embarrassment swelled in his chest; Logan must have noticed the way he unintentionally arched into his palms. Keegan made a small huff, feigning a mixture of amusement and annoyance. “As enjoyable as it could be, amid your recklessness.”

Logan blinked, and despite the darkness of the night, Keegan he could see the pink tinting those cheeks. “I am _so_ sorry,” he apologized, averting his gaze to the fire. “I’m not usually so careless, especially when I should be extra on that considering what you’ve been through.”

If the Walker looked at Keegan now, he would see the entertainment in his blue eyes. “This is embarrassing, but I was so confident that I mistook your sensitivity for… enjoyment, I guess,” Logan rubbed his face. “Should’ve known better that it was actually _hurt_. I’m sorry.”

Oh, clueless kid, if only he knew his hunches were correct. Didn’t matter. It was useful, to place the fault of Keegan’s restlessness to him. Better for him to not know the real problem was tucked away uncomfortably under the cloth.

“And as I’ve said before, don’t worry about it,” he reassured, reaching for his cheek, the back of his fingers slightly touching the pale skin of Logan’s. Keegan recalled the other’s eagerness, the optimism in his tone to treat him. Made a deduction from that. “It was apparent, your distraction.”

Implying it was _Logan_ too preoccupied with Keegan or his body, to the point of sloppiness.

It took a few seconds for the younger Ghost to decrypt his words, and Logan pulled away from him, suspicious. “Hold on. Don’t flatter yourself, Keegan.”

“And yet your breath wavers from my touch,” the other observed, leaning back comfortably in satisfaction, and Logan snorted.

“Yeah, I’m leaving now.” Standing, and left him by the flames.

Keegan exhaled, replacing what would have been a chuckle. To sidetrack himself from the negligence of arousal, he began wrapping a new roll of bandages over his arm, and could still feel the press of Logan’s hands; the weight of them, lingering on his arm and back and chest, and he quivered, quietly.

**Author's Note:**

> I wonder if my writing has downgraded since I last wrote in... March, maybe? Hopefully you've enjoyed this small piece, and do leave kudos!
> 
> Loves to all my readers <3


End file.
